


He is Affection and the Present Moment

by ergo_existence



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Post-it Notes, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ergo_existence/pseuds/ergo_existence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(because he has thrown open the house to the snow foam of winter and to the noises of summer—)</p><p>Arthur Rimbaud begins so—</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is Affection and the Present Moment

**Author's Note:**

> comment if you like. This isn't my best and was just a muse, I suppose.

Caboose’s first memories of Church are his favourite. Wyoming hadn’t come, they had Sheila, O’Malley hadn’t assaulted his head and the only antagonist was Tucker. Everything was his fault: that was what Caboose assumed. (So he continued to).

When he sees Church out of armour for the first time, he feels tingly. He knows he’ll remember this. He’s black hair and black stubble, and grimaces and he smells of ash and olive oil soap and he’s all lanky limbs and Caboose wants to cuddle him. His mean face just beckons for Caboose to appreciate it.

At night when Caboose can’t sleep, Church can hear him toss and turn. So Church ordered a night-light from Command and installed it beside his bed, telling him so: “Go to bed. _Go to bed you stupid fucking idiot._ ”

‘Idiot’ was such a nice word. He loved listening to the way Church said it: _i-di-ot._ That tone. It was their word. He knows Epsilon is really Church when he hears that again.

Nobody could really understand why he liked Church so much. He was always his leader, he always listened. Even when no one else did, he spoke for Caboose. He swore and cussed and yelled and sometimes upset Caboose, but he meant the most. Church was like putting an arm under hot water to test its temperature, or trying to figure out the right side of a t-shirt. He was like pushing the plunger on a coffee pot.

When Church came back as a ghost he never saw that face again. He only ever caught the glare of the visor, the white armour then the blue armour and back. Church was still his best friend. (That was the right word, right?)

He stopped visiting in the evening, so Caboose left notes everywhere for him. So he’d always know Caboose was waiting and he thought about Church.

_ill Think about u tonight Church!!!!!_

_youre my best frend Church_

_Church why do you never come in my room anymore??_

_church im sorry i blew u up it was tuckers fault_

_tucker did it_

Caboose’s next favourite moment, though? When he finds Church again, after they’re re-stationed.

He knows that voice. Always. He has recordings of Church yelling at him, and when the mean Blue Sergeant stops yelling he replays them. Thinks about Blood Gulch and the nightlight he left behind and the sticky note left on Church’s door: _church i love you Please Dont Go_

Agent Washingtub doesn’t _understand._ He’s all rules and order and Church was always gruff and mean and steady but not steady because he shouted a lot. And swore. Caboose doesn’t swear but his second favourite word is ‘fuck’ when it’s said by Church.

Church isn’t happy to see him. But Caboose has never been happier. He could die, right then and there. Church was love and joy and happiness and popcorn and thrills and doves and pushes and shoves and he was everything.

He wasn’t obsessive!

Caboose has his best friend back. Even when he threatens Caboose, well – Caboose _loves_ it. Church’s vitriol was what made him _Church._ Caboose had learnt a very important word from him. Love.

Love, love, love, love. Caboose hums it under his breath. He thinks because he chanted it enough, that’s why he could find Church again. Because Church was love.

But then he’s taken away.

Then he finds out it was just an android with Church in it that held him at night and smelt like olive oil soap and ash and liquid sunshine.

It was still _Church._ That’s what matters, when Church rubbed his shoulder with a frown. When he used the base’s radio without his armour on and kept looking at Caboose whilst talking to Command. When Church explained to him about sex and adult-things and Caboose didn’t understand but did, in his own way.

His best friend died.

He came back though! He always did. Church came back for Caboose. He had to look after him. Best friends did that.

He made sure Epsilon was safe and he _remembered_ the way he was supposed to.

Although, in the long stretches of nothing in Caboose’s mind, he’d wish Church had his body back. So Church could rub his back, or brush his forehead. Or watch Church early in the morning with a bleary look – when he was always his worst, and that was Caboose’s _favourite_ time of day. When he spit and swore and stuck a finger in Caboose’s face.

When he’d go to sleep then, he’d pretend Church was there. He’d lost his stack of post-it notes.

Sometimes he’d look at his hands and imagine Church holding him; cold, not warm, just chilling the right way. Caboose didn’t understand why it was like this for him, why Church was his best friend. Why he’d picked him.

He wrote letters and postcards to Church at night. _Dear church today was ok i guess i just wish you where you agan_

_why did you go wiht the mean lady why didnt you stay wiht me in the sand???_

_church sometimes I think abut you at nite and im so happy but then i wake up_

Some people would say Caboose was stupid to be around Church when he was so angry. But he knew Church cared, in his own way. His voice never went beyond a particular level; he didn’t let _others_ hurt him (too much, anyway); he entrusted Caboose to remember him.

Night-time was never Caboose’s favourite. He got scared and lonely and wanted somebody to make sure his bed was warm.

He sometimes pretends the pillow behind his head is Church.

He realises in the morning it’s not.

Caboose’s least favourite memory, though, is when Church leaves. Except he doesn’t say anything, like ‘Let’s play hide and not seek, idiot,’ or ‘Never fucking come near me _again.’_

He swears he sees Church for a second. He _swears_ he’s there. He just wants Church to stay. Whenever Church was around, _things were okay._ No matter how much trouble they were in.

But he’s not. He’s gone. Gone, gone, gone. And Caboose can’t get him back.

\--

Agent Washington is awake, too, and comes into his room noticing the light on.

“Hey, Caboose, you better turn your light off and go to sleep.”

“I can’t.” He looks over to Wash’s figure, dark shadows under his eyes.

“Missing Church?”

“Church had a nightlight for me. It was so I could sleep.”

“Well, try and get some rest.” That tone he gets is so different to Church, trying to be civil and kind, when all he wants is venom and ‘fuck you’ and ‘shut the fuck up' and ‘you’re so dumb, I swear’. It hurts thinking about it. Makes his chest sad.

“I can’t.”

Wash sighs, shuts the makeshift door to block the light from the hallway. Caboose doesn’t pay any attention to it, as he imagines what Church would’ve done then.

“It’s not my fucking fault you forgot it at Blood Gulch,” he’d growl and cross his arms, lean against the door frame. “Can’t you grow the fuck up?”

“But Chuuuurch,” Caboose would reply and lengthen the ‘u’. “You made me leave straight away and I couldn’t get it!”

“Not fast enough,” he’d mutter. His hair would be messy and his eyes puffed up with sleep, shirtless and angry and _Church._ Then he’d look at Caboose with a half-frown and groan. Caboose would widen his eyes and cross his legs, pouting in his typical manner.

“Ugh,” he’d moan again. “You want me to rub your back, don’t you?”

And Caboose, he smiles and nods his head. “Yes!”

So Church would saunter over and slump beside Caboose, rub his shoulders and back and _try_ to convince him to sleep. He’d look at Caboose’s shaven hair and consider the small tuft near his forehead that he always missed.

“Thank you, Church,” Caboose would politely say, leaning into Church’s shoulder eventually and ready to sleep, but he doesn’t, because he wants to be awake when Church is around. He had a simple goal in life: tightly hold onto the people he loved.

“Yeah, well, you’d be a shit in the morning if I didn’t do this. Probably blow up the kettle.” He grunted. “Again,” he’d amend. “How did you do that anyway?”

“Tucker left it overfilled it. Not my fault.” Caboose would move his left hand, reach over and pat Church on the knee. “Thank you, Church.”

And he’d disappear from Caboose’s imagination, dreams of dirt and endless days in his mind, softness and hardness he missed.

When he’d wake up, he’d imagine Church would be there like he used to, mutter of excuses of “Oh, shit, Tucker better not see this,” and “Fuck you, Caboose, you fucking fell asleep and I—”

Caboose would just smile smugly and nod his head.

He misses waking up to that.

So he goes on and finds Freckles, except Freckles can’t massage his back and swear at him, or tell him what to go do next.

Then he loses Freckles, too. And then he’s in a new place with new friends and Smith is like how Caboose used to be, just about following and agreeing until he fell in love and he hopes he can get Church back before Smith becomes _too_ much like Caboose and

By now he should have found Church. He should have found him. It’s been too long without him. He wanted Mister Sarge back and to find Private Biscuit, and of course Agent Washignton… but Church? There’s no disc or nice lady that tells him where to find Church.

“Um, Kimball,” he asked after on meeting. “When are we going to find Church?”

He didn’t notice Tucker just about out of the door, stopping to listen. _This was never good, once Church was brought up again._

“Church?” Kimball says, stopping to think. “He was one of the Blues, was he not?”

“Yes, he was my best friend.”

“Did he leave?”

“Yes, yes, he left. I need to find him again. He always leaves, but I always find him! Or he comes back.”

She makes a noise of understanding. “Well, I guess that’s your job then. I’m sorry, Caboose, I’ve heard nothing. With where Chorus is now, we don’t have much time out for side missions. But let’s focus on getting your friends back for now, okay?”

“No, Church _is_ my friend,” Caboose insisted.

“Caboose, c’mon,” Tucker speaks up, putting out his arm. “Stop annoying Kimball.”

“Then where is Church, Tucker?”

“I don’t know!” He snaps back. “None of us do. We need to focus on getting Wash.”

“You want Wash and I want Church! See. Easy. We can split up and get our best friends back!”

“We can’t afford to split up. We need you to bring the general IQ of the room down, so the enemy gets bored and runs away.”

“Thank you, yes, they will be scared of me.”

Tucker sighs exasperatedly, already knowing how this goes. “Yeah, okay.”

Caboose doesn’t know what to do. Is his next step going to lead him the right place? Where is the right place?

He doesn’t know.

Then Tucker says they have to leave and they find Wash, Sarge, Donut and Lopez and there’s no Church and…

“You get your friends back,” Caboose starts, “but my Church isn’t here.”

Tucker purses his lips and looks at Wash. He shrugs his shoulders, mouthing _Freckles_? Tucker shakes his head.

“Do you think I’ll find him?”

“Like hell I know.” Tucker bites his lip and looks at Caboose. “But eh, he might… he might come back.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yeah, Caboose, of course I do.”

“I miss him. Do you think he misses us?”

Tucker _wants_ to say ‘No, he fucking hates us and left without a goodbye,’ but he can’t with the look Caboose has. It’s _heartbroken._ He’s never looked like this. There’s no _hope._

“I’m sure he does. He’s probably thinking about, right now, how much he misses you.”

\--

Carolina looks at Church, his blue visage dangling his feet off the desk that definitely is _not_ hers, but hey, she’s Control now.

“If Caboose were here, we’d have blown up by now.”

“Think about it often?” she says back, flicking through ‘Top Secret’ files (seriously, who _ran_ this? What professional uses ‘Top Secret’ or ‘password1’ as a password?)

“Wherever I go, I imagine how many times I would have died with Caboose around. And that number does _not_ surprise me.”

She doesn’t reply.

“I kinda think about him a bit, I guess.” He stops moving for a moment. “Okay, that sounds like _Caboose_ and not me. Shit. Am I turning into Caboose? Oh, god, you’re turning me soft. This is your fault.”

“How would _I_ be the one turning you soft? You’re the ‘tough’ one.”

Church knows her brand of sarcasm. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I guess…” he eventually continues on, his humanity still present in the way he spoke and behaved. He may be made of circuitry and wires, heart and mind on a card, but he still _felt_ human. He had feelings and emotions, memories. He may be born from a dead man – dead even whilst alive – but Church was more. Church was like _existence+ edition,_ continuing on in remembrance of the Alpha and developing on his own. He wondered if one day, after the war and helping Carolina, he could get a body. Or somewhere before that. Feel alive.

Well, he felt alive as much as an Artificial Intelligence could. He believed he was human. So he was.

( _Maybe Caboose helped that humanity, showing that belief,_ he wonders, secretly. _Never stopping. Always thinking ‘Church’ and not ‘AI’ or ‘Epsilon’)_.

“I guess Caboose… I don’t know.”

“He’ll be there for you when you find him. Help me with this code, would you?”

“I’m no Delta, but okay,” he responds, images of childish smiles and pouts in his mind. Or mind as it was, then.

\--

“Church!” Caboose yells out, seeing Carolina and only noticing Church. Despite everything that had happened so far – the Federal Army, the Rebel Army, the snow (he hated snow, for many reasons) – seeing Church negated all that. Instantly made the world harmonious and perfect, his best friend back.

“Hey, Caboose,” he says.

Caboose doesn’t remember what happened before or what will happen next; he doesn’t care about Locus or Felix or Kimball, or Smith, or Freckles, or Tucker or Wash or anybody or his mum back home.

_Church. Home. Safe._

“I found you!”

“You did, buddy,” he says. He sighs dramatically.

“I missed you _so much oh my god_ we’re going to have so much fun together we’ll beat crime and you can rub my back again and read me stories and oh –”

“You miss me rubbing your back?” He doesn’t understand the importance.

“I couldn’t sleep when you didn’t! It’s why I told you when you came back as Epsilon. Duh!”

“Oh.”

“Yes!”

“Now, Caboose,” he stops to consider, continues. “We’ve got some important stuff to get through. Promise me you won’t fuck up?”

“I’m going to fuck up so badly Church!” Oh, shit, he’s _excited._ “This will be the best!”

“Good… good to have you back.”

The Reds and Blues, Carolina, watch on at this reunion and the oddity, the immense scale of what they have left to get through.

Yet to Caboose, this moment was everything he had hoped for so long. Church back, Church here, his best friend and his chest warm and sweet and a smile Church can’t see on his face.

What was the word? Love?

He liked that word a lot.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Caboose needs a happy ending.


End file.
